My dear human friend, would you kindly stop moving for just a few moments? I know you are uncomfortable, but if I don't get this spike out of your leg, properly, you could very well bleed it, it's far too close to the artery. -- Anon Guest
Panic has many modes, and few of them are rational. Further, few could be expected to act rationally when pierced through a major limb with something long and sharp. The accident that caused it had been startling enough, but the injury was far, far worse.
When it came to fight, flight, fawn, or freeze, Human Zeen defaulted to 'flight'. Not apparently realising that she couldn't run away from something embedded in her own body.
The rest of the crew - those able to withstand the sight of blood - had to corner Zeen and kettle her in. She was not capable of understanding, deep in her panic, that they were trying to help. She was not capable of recognising them as friends.
Companion Kul kept using a soothing, singsong voice, wishing that Zeen reacted at all well to any of the calming meds they could have used on her. "There now, there now," cooed Kul. "We want to help you, but we have to get close. You need help."
Zeen struggled against the netting, which only sort of allowed Kul to administer the painkillers. Not just to ease Zeen's pain but, because of her weird reactions, also knock her the flakk out.
It took six of them to make sure Zeen landed in such a way that her wound was not aggravated any further.
Zeen was, thankfully, back to her more normal self on the other side of medical intervention. More or less.
"The monsters gone away," Zeen slurred, loopy on her special painkillers. "You gun' be my frien'?"
"Always," sighed Kul. They'd be able to laugh about it when Zeen was sober.
[Photo by David Clode on Unsplash]
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